Crossroads
by Myrime
Summary: There would never be a happy ending for a rat. - Four worlds that never happened, and one that wasn't better at all.


Crossroads

_Freedom cannot be given, you must chose it for yourself.  
_

(Qun, Dragon Age)

* * *

i

His eyes still haunted him, not really hurt but resigned, not angry but bitter, not accusing but broken.

When Remus came to pack his trunk Peter was alone in the dorm, flinching at the sound of the door opening.

"Don't worry," Remus voice was not shaking as his hands did, but his smile was full of betrayed desperation. "I can't hurt you in the broad daylight."

Peter didn't answer, just watched as his one-time friend turned around to slowly gather his things, careful not to open any fresh wounds – and failing, as new blood coloured the bandages that seemed to cover most of his body.

_But he's a monster_, a voice whispered inside his head. _Sooner or later he'd kill us all._

It had been the right thing to do, writing that letter, telling the world what they had found out. Someone had to keep the students safe.

After what seemed an eternity, Remus faced him again, ignoring the smaller boy's stiff form, the fear of the retaliation that was sure to follow.

"Good bye, Peter." Remus didn't wait for the answer he would never come.

And then he was gone, and Peter could breathe again. _It has been for the best._

xx

"What have you done?" Sirius asked upon seeing the empty spot beside his bed, unbelieving. Then he turned, eyes wide and filled with all the rage Remus had lacked.

"What have you done?" he repeated, screaming this time, lunging forward to grab Peter. And he would have, had not James appeared just in time to keep him back.

That was right, they had to understand. Sirius just had to calm down, then he would see it, too. He had done this for them, made the decision they couldn't, kept them safe.

Every bit of relief disappeared however as he met James' gaze, filled with coldness and something akin to disgust.

"You better get out of here, Pettigrew," he said, steel in his voice. "Find yourself a new place to stay. Don't come back."

Peter was speechless. "But wh-"

"I don't care. Just don't come back."

"But he's a monster-"

At that, Sirius looked up again, eyes dark and threatening. "No, _you_ are."

xx

They allowed themselves two days of rest, to come to terms with what had happened, to grieve for this friendship that could not be recovered. Then the Marauders – painfully cut down by two – rose again in their new chosen mission. And it wasn't Snape anymore who had to fear their youthful cruelness, but the boy they might have once called brother

Remus had sent them letters, but no matter how eloquent his words were or how much he tried to reassure them that nothing of this was their fault, it didn't change the fact that he was gone. And they hurt.

Peter might have feared the full moon once, and the creatures it let rise in the dark. Now terror walked in the light of day. He had eliminated the hunter, and still he turned out hunted.

And one day he stopped hiding. No one would miss Peter, the rat, anyway.

(And being scared hadn't kept him safe, it only made him fall harder.)

* * *

ii

They hadn't noticed him, of course not. He hadn't dared to enter and, seeing the fiery haired girl run off with the other boy beside her, fuming and cursing Gryffindors-to-be, that seemed to have been a wise decision. Without another glance into the compartment, he followed the odd pair of friends, thinking that, maybe, he might fit in.

"With Slytherins that would have never happened," the black-haired boy said hotly when Peter arrived at their new compartment, hesitating at the door. He very much doubted that, knowing how cruel children could be, no matter which colour they wore. The next words however made him halt.

"We take care of each other."

And wasn't that exactly what he had always wanted? Belonging somewhere? Being safe?

Gathering all his courage, he stepped in. "M…may I sit with you?"

And just like that it started. Hogwarts. Slytherin.

Severus had been right, they _took_ care of each other, and while he didn't have many friends, his classmates always avenged him when those bloody 'Marauders' pulled another prank on him. They taught him how to survive in a world that was so much bigger than him.

And he learned fast, self-preservation being what had driven him into the House of Snakes, after all.

There was still that burning wish for glory, of being more than the mousy offspring of an impoverished pureblood family. So he followed Severus to the Dark Lord, giving his self and heart and soul for even the slightest bit of power.

But he was blind. Blind for believing he was the only one to notice Snape turning away from their cause. Blind for believing he could stand up to him.

So he spoke up one night, accusing the glowing prodigy in their midst of being a trait, calling out a challenge. The Dark Lord only laughed and motioned them to go on.

"I have no use for fools," he said, dark amusement in his red eyes.

And he was a fool, naïve to think he could ever stand a chance or that someone would come to his help. There was no more house unity, no more taking care of each other.

It was over fast and in the end Peter was glad that Severus didn't like to play with his victims like Bellatrix did.

He still died.

(And being selfish from the very beginning didn't keep him alive.)

* * *

iii

_Then you should have died, like we would have done for you._

Sirius' voice still echoed in Peter's head as he made his way through the maze of human legs in front of him. During the past twelve years he had become good at trusting his animagus' instincts and managed to navigate himself to freedom without problems.

Blocking out his former friend's words was not that easy.

Couldn't they see, that he hadn't had a chance? He still had nightmares, pain still lingered in his bones, he still saw red eyes ripping his mind apart. He had never been a fighter. They knew that. And they had promised they would keep him safe.

(He had made promises, too, but, hell, they should have known.)

His nose picked up a familiar scent, and fear began to embrace him with icy fingers. _Would they really?_

When he heard the blood-chilling howl, he knew. (He had even before that. He had betrayed them, after all.)

He ran as fast as his short legs could carry him, not caring anymore to remain unseen; they would find him either way. He just had to reach the apparition barrier before they did.

When the sound of two sets of paws were coming closer, part of him knew he wouldn't make it. They had raced a dozen times as children, playful and without a care in the world. He had never won.

Ignoring his hammering heart he became faster still, gathering all the strength he had left.

The border was in sight when he felt teeth - as sharp as his fear - close around his body. Being thrown onto his back, he looked up – right into the amber eyes of a fully grown, furious werewolf. Next to them appeared the grim-like figure of Padfoot, changing in the tall, haunted shadow of Sirius Black.

Peters heart jumped again. _The wolf will turn on him. He doesn't hurt animagi, only humans. He will –_ but he didn't He didn't even appear to have noticed the man beside him, his hungry gaze still locked onto the shivering rat between his paws.

"So we do get to finish this tonight," Sirius' voice was rough from year of disuse. "Moony, old boy, step aside so I can aim better."

Seeing another chance to flee, Peter readied himself. But before he could even move a toe (missing or not), he found himself petrified and forced back into his own body.

"Fancy meeting you here, Wormtail," Sirius chuckled, wand trained on Peter's still form. "I'm sad to say this will be the last time we'll see each other."  
Moony huffed next to him, clearly wanting to get on with things.

"I would gladly let you have a bite, Moony, but I'll need something for the Ministry to identify." With that he got serious.

"I've already been to hell, Pettigrew. I'm sure you'll like it there."

(And running away didn't save him, it just brought more pain.)

* * *

iv

"And what, Weasley, is that supposed to be?" The boy squirmed under his stare, throwing doubting glances at his cauldron.

"Burning salve, sir."

Snape's lips thinned. "10 points from Gryffindor," he snarled. "And detention. You have a rat, right, Weasley? Bring it, so we can test how efficient your 'burning salve' is." He turned around, cloak billowing. "Class dismissed. Tonight at 8, Weasley. Be punctual."

The boy's face turned red, highlighting his hair's unfortunate colour. Then he opened his mouth as if to protest, but one of his friends interrupted him. "Come one, Percy. He won't kill Scabbers."

Snape waited until the last student had left – which was only a matter of seconds, anyway, because no one wanted to linger in his classroom – then he smirked.

_Finally_. He had searched for years, all over Britain, and, before Percy Weasley had arrived at Hogwarts with one very peculiar rat in tow, he had almost given up.

But now the game was on again.

xx

Weasley really brought the rat, clutching it with his small fingers while it struggled against its fleshy cage. A lazy wave with his wand stilled the bloody vermin.

The boy's eyes snapped up to him defiantly. "What have you done to Scabbers?"

"I petrified him. Wouldn't want him to escape before he had a taste of your brew." Snape pointed at one of the tables in the classroom. "There you will find your task. I will be back in two hours. Be finished by then." When he was half turned away, he spoke again. "And take care. I heard that rats are pretty robust animals, but one never knows what poison you might accidently create."

With that, he left for his office, taking the offensive vermin with him. As soon as the door was closed, he put up locking and silencing charms, before drawing his wand on his unwilling guest. A few muttered words later, and the rat transformed into the plumb body of one of his childhood tormentors.

"Pettigrew. What a sweet surprise."

"How –" the rat-like man squeaked after Snape released his head out of the body bind, frantically looking for an escape route.

He smiled dangerously. "While I hate Black, I do seem to have more faith in him than the rest of your merry little band of do-gooders. He would never have betrayed Potter. And Lupin owed them too much." He swirled his wand slowly, making Pettigrew flinch whenever it pointed at him. "That left only you, traitor."

"But we're on the same side, Severus. I helped our mas-"

"He's not my master," Snape snapped. "And we will never be on the same side."

Peter seemed to sense him contemplating what to do next – he was never completely sure that his suspicions were right – and began to speak once more. "Please, Sev-"

"_Silencio_," he spat out. Then he leaned slightly back, relishing the fear in the other's eyes. "In some way I even have to thank you, Pettigrew. You opened my eyes, gave me a reason to turn my back on the Dark Lord."

He smirked slightly before continuing. "You murdered Lily. He would have let her lived. But you betrayed her. "His voice held more emotion than he had allowed himself for years.

"You will die here, Pettigrew." Then he raised his wand once more. "I think I will greet Black from you."

(And he never hid good enough, meeting death all the same in the end.)

* * *

v

In hat last world he had found that little bit of courage hidden deep inside him. He had still been scared. He had still betrayed and run and hid. He had still cared only for himself.

But he died by his own hand, his own choice, giving the son of his once best friends the chance to flee.

There might have never been a happy ending for him but, at last, he was doing what was right.

* * *

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